In The Dark
by Ink Mage
Summary: An Avox's view of the final days in Snow's regime
1. Chapter 1

It stretches out endlessly. Creeping through the darkness, spinning and reaching like a monster from a child's nightmares. From _our_ nightmares. It seems strange that it's only sound that makes me want to curl up and cry. But for us, the sounds aren't what they'd be to the innocent. We know that the wild hissing isn't just hot air through a pipe—it's the sound of gas being activated. We know that the furious cracks aren't backfiring trucks—they're the sound of a bullet leaving a gun. And we know that the screams we hear at night aren't some injured animal. They're the pain-filled screams of those who have no voices.

We are the Avoxes. We are the silent city workers, traitors and slaves to a merciful capital who have chosen to let us live. More specifically, we are the lowest of the Avoxes—the sewer workers. We are the people that even Avoxes pity. This place below is reserved for the dangerous, the treacherous, the insane. Take me, for example. I don't even remember my name—the other Avoxes when talking about me make a fist with their right hands, and swing it across to their left shoulder; a combination of moves that translates roughly to '_respected elder'_. I still remember how I came here though. I lived in District 10 before. I had a job training horses for the Peacekeepers and the Capital. One of my horses got irritated with how the Head Peacekeeper was flogging it with a crop, and kicked him. The Head Peacekeeper came back to punish me for selling a dangerous animal. I lost my temper, and I punched him. For my punishment, I will be locked away from the horses and the sun until the day I die.

Do I regret it? Some days, surprisingly—no. I think that I would have gone insane, in that place above us. Starving, letting my children be slaughtered year after year, and being told to celebrate their deaths. At least down here, we are treated like what we are—slaves. That's not to say I would do it again. I have learned patience and gained the ability to stay quiet when necessary down here. It's a necessity. The loud and the vengeful die… and quickly. I have remained alive for quite a while now. If I am calculating right, it has been 12 years since I was lead into my dark prison. I am the longest-surviving Avox in my troupe.

The new Avox is working next to me, helping to shift a blockage that has cut water in one of the main lines. He is rather intelligent. He picked up the Avox spelling method—tapping your right forefinger on your tool once for A, twice for B, three times for C and so on—quite quickly. He's well on the way to learning the quick symbols for words that we created and passed down from Avox to Avox. When he arrived, the first thing he did with his ability to spell was to 'say' his name. I knew his name without him spelling it. His name is Cinna, and he was a stylist for the Hunger Games.

I haven't seen the Hunger Games, to be honest, not since I was taken. But the Peacekeepers down here talk to mask the sounds of our pain. They talked about the incredible entrance of the Tributes from District 12, with their cloaks of fire. They spoke about the dress that the girl Tribute wore, which seemed to be made of flames. Above all, they talked about the success of Cinna and how much their wives now wanted one of his creations for his own. But the next year, the tone was different. Apparently, he used some smoke and some burning cloth to slap in the face of the Capital. It wasn't until later that I heard the truth. He turned the girl—Katniss—into the figurehead for the rebellion that has been long time coming. I wasn't surprised when, less than a week later, his battered form was put into our quarters minus a tongue.

He was surprised when he woke down here in the darkness. He seemed to expect that he would be executed. I think it's obvious though. He's going to be the final blow from the Capital to the revolution that is raging above us. He is the man that lit 'the girl on fire'. He started the spark. And so, when she gets into the Capital like the guards speculate that she will, he will be taken back into the light. He will look at her one last time… and then President Snow will shoot Cinna. His actions started the flame, and his death will smother it. We know that this is the fate in store for Cinna and the so-called Mockingjay; just as we know that we cannot stop it. So we work on, forever in the darkness, with the sounds that stretch out endlessly.


	2. Chapter 2

It was at shift change two when it happened. It started with the screams—real screams, the ones that require tongues. This could only mean that something was troubling the Peacekeepers. The Peacekeepers that were watching our work reached nervously for their guns, and pointed them at the end of the tunnel. I took the moment to send a few signals to the rest of the work. Hand flat, thumb pointed down—close hand into a fist, bring it to the side—point hand towards the roof of the tunnel—death kiss. _'Danger—fight coming—escape to surface—love for those who do not survive'._ Next came the smell. Blood, the rotting decay of roses, the putrid stench of flesh. The screams were coming ever closer, and were now accompanied by a loud scuttling. Claws on stone, like rats but infinitely louder. The Peacekeepers now move away from us, heading towards the sound of the commotion. We lay down our tools, and the closest Avoxes begin to inch towards the exit.

And then they're there. _Mutts_. I have never seen one up close; for me, they only existed for the Hunger Games. These ones are like white lizards, with gaping jaws and scuttling feet. They grab the Peacekeepers first, and they die shooting while the creatures tear into their flesh. I start pushing people towards the exit, while making my movements as slow as possible. No reason to attract attention. We go in order of work station. I'm the last to move up the ladder. I can see Cinna at the top of the tunnel, and he's moving his hands in small circles. '_Quick, quick'._ I look down to see one of the mutts, its muzzle stained with the blood of a Peacekeeper. It begins to reach towards me. I expect it to roar, or maybe scream, but instead it hisses. "_Katniss,"_ it cries, "_Katniss."_ Now I know why there are mutts in the sewers.

I move as fast as I can up the ladder. I don't bother looking to try and save the other work groups. I heard the screams of the Avoxes, and the silence that seems so much more _real_ than the silence of those without voices. Strong hands lift me up into the brightness just as the creature lunges for my leg, and someone has the sense to slam the lid of the sewer line down. I stand there for several minutes, unable to see in all this _light_, but the mutt doesn't come to finish us off. Maybe it found an easier pray. Maybe it's looking for Katniss. I hope to whoever listens to my silent prayers at night that it never finds her.

First things first. We can't actually see in this light. Cinna seems to be coping rather well, but he's only been below for a few weeks, and at least the cells where President Snow tortures his victims have windows to let out the smell of human waste—and to let in the sun. The answer to the problem is simple. Strips of cloth, torn from the clothes of a dead man and tied around our eyes. We can still see through, but it blocks out some of the brightness. Then we begin to move. The others seem to want to follow me; their 'respected elder', the person who lived the longest in the misery of the sewers. I keep Cinna nearby in case we get lost. It's not a problem. The face of the Capital has changed since I was brought here by hovercraft, but the layout is still the same. We trudge along through the streets, some of which have been covered with a black tar-like substance. Occasionally we hear bursts of gunshots and screaming. One of the Avoxes—the one we call right foot stamp—left arm scythe—'_brave defender'_, because he often steps between Peacekeepers and their prey by taking the blame for minor crimes—twitches nervously every time a gun goes off. Finally, when the darkness comes, we grow too tired to keep walking. We find a small abandoned shop to sleep in, and I keep watch.

Now is the time to take stock of the situation. We have ten Axoxes alive, including me. When you think about how we are undernourished workers who had no time to prepare their escape, it looks like a miracle. When you think about how there were over a hundred Avoxes down there, plus dozens of Peacekeepers—it looks like a slaughter. I look at the faces that made it out. There is me and Cinna, of course. Brave Defender is asleep by the door. Next to him is Alicia, a young woman who entered the sewer last month. It's odd that they chose to put her in the sewers—women don't last long down below. Even now, her breath rattles with a lung infection. By the window is the Avox called large circles with both arms, or '_Mimic_'. Mimic isn't right in the head. He's a good worker, but he likes to imitate what other people are doing. As long as he imitates an Avox, he's okay. But we all worried that one day he would decide to imitate a Peacekeeper, and try to snatch his gun.

Next is the Avox that we have no name for. He refuses to spell out his name, nor will he respond to any of the names we invent for him. He generally refuses to communicate with us at all, preferring instead to live and work alone. The other Avoxes have many hand signs for him; none of them are complimentary. Then there's wrist-twist—sidestep: 'Sly one'. He is one of the few who we know why they are here. Every day the guards check the tools especially carefully, often telling Sly One that they 'don't want him robbing the Capital—again.' The great thing about Sly One is that he still manages to steel parts of the guards' lunches'—and he always shares. Next to him, curled around each other, are the twins. We call them hand wave and clasp for handshake. The actions mean '_Friendship_' and '_Goodness'_. The boys are willing to do anything to help each other, and anyone else. They are one of the few bright spots in working in the sewers. They even whistle sometimes, and the Peacekeepers let them. Finally, there is Glint, a rebel from District One. He's only fifteen, and he has suffered so much down there. Going from the pride of a small family to being the lowest of the low has been hard on him.

I know every last one of these people. I have seen them weep bitter tears as another friend simply kneels over from exhaustion, and I've seen them share their secret, private joys that we hide so carefully from the Peacekeepers. I know without a doubt, that I would give anything to protect them from the coming dangers. I leave them to sleep all night. When the sun rises, I put on my blindfold and wake my friends. It's time to start moving again.


	3. Chapter 3

Each day is the same. We wake up, we eat whatever scraps of food we can find, we walk on until sunset, we find an abandoned house or shop, and we sleep. We lost Alicia to the lung infection in the middle of the second day. The years she spent under the streets started the infection, and the gas that was lingering slightly on the surface of the streets only aggravated it. She got so sick, so quickly. It was as if she had breathed in a full dose of the gas. We laid her to rest in one of the shops, dressed in a beautiful gown. If we can, we will come back for her. Mimic is also gone, simply wandering away quietly from the rest of the group as we marched along. I hope he will be okay. As for the rest of us, we keep walking. No one asks where we're going. Only Cinna and I know. It seems obvious to me—we're going to say hello to President Snow.

As we walk along, we keep on seeing posters offering rewards for certain rebels. When we first saw one of these posters, Cinna excitedly tapped one of the photos. A dark haired girl in a bird-like battle outfit stared coolly out of the picture. _Katniss Everdeen._ Cinna looks both proud and scared. Almost like he can see his beautiful bonfire linking towards the branches of a nearby tree. Every now and again, we see announcements on the televisions from President Snow. News of rebels killed, towns destroyed, enemies captured. Each time we hold our breath in fear that Katniss's capture will be announced; each time we sigh in relief. Sometimes, the rebels manage to play their own segments. My favourites are the 'Tributes for the Tributes'. Fallen children, slaughtered for the amusement of the Capital. They frequently play a tribute for a little girl called Rue. The final image of her is heart-breaking; her hair woven with flowers as she waits for collection, while someone sings a soft lullaby to her. A sweet innocent, cruelly murdered.

We are hiding in a cellar when the final battle takes place. We hear the rifle shots, the screams of the wounded, and the panic of the Capital as it _finally _understands what death is about. Then, a massive explosion rips through the air. Brave Defender panics, terrified by the loud explosions. Sly One, Friendship and Goodness pin him to the ground, wincing as he roughly elbows them in his fear. Slowly, the panic wears off. When he stops struggling, he signals. 'Left hand open on chest—right hand pass over the face.' "_Sorry—afraid"._ All three of the men nod, turning hopefully toward the television. It's our only way of hearing the news. And the announcement comes. The rebels have seized control of the Capital. President Snow has been captured. The explosion was created by the Peacekeepers to slaughter the children from District 13, who were helping to overthrow the Capital. They show pictures of the battlefield. Glint and the nameless one turn away in horror. So do Friendship and Goodness. Sly One and Brave Defender look, but I don't think they see. Cinna and I watch properly. At the sight of each mangled body, each severed limb, each lost life, my heart clenches. As one, Cinna and I reach up for the Death Kiss—a symbol that is apparently known all over Panem, rather than only in the districts. Then the news comes. President Snow will be executed at the City Centre in two days' time.

We are hard pressed to make our way to the City Centre in time. We make it to the site of the execution with only hours to spare, and we use those hours to squirm our way to the front of the crowd. No one can explain why we're here. Maybe it's some sort of morbid desire to know for certain that the monster who hurt so many is really dead. Maybe it will bring us closure. Because at the moment, it feels like only death is making any sense. Finally, they come. The almost colourless leader of the rebels, President Coin. The pale thin lover-boy, Peeta. And, of course, the hero of the day—Katniss, the tragic hero. She carries a bow with her, and only one arrow. Suddenly, I stiffen in surprise. Her face is drawn, tight… she's uncertain. I cast my gaze over to President Snow. He looks impressed and yet resigned to his fate. No clues there as to why Katniss seems so stressed. My gaze turns to President Coin. She seems so proud, so strong, the leader that Panem has been searching for. And yet… her gaze reminds me of the Peacekeepers who had blamed a crime on some poor Avox to their superiors. The slyness, the slight fear of being caught. When she talks about the death of the children, she minutely flinches like she expects someone to yell out "LIAR!" That flinch tells all. I hear small gasps around me, and I know that the other Avoxes have seen it too. So the secret of who killed the children is shared out now between only a handful: eight Avoxes, the dictator, the rebel leader, and the figurehead who is only holding one arrow.

Katniss arms her bow, draws back, and fires. The arrow arks from her bow and pierces her target—President Coin. The arrow sinks into her chest; a perfect shot. The crowds are confused. The rebel guards begin to move forward to restrain the 'unstable' girl. And Cinna, brave dear Cinna—he lifts his head and whistles a four note tune. It's such an unfamiliar sound for an Avox to give, since we are killed for making any sound at all, that we stare at him for a heartbeat. But the message has been sent to the person who will understand it. Katniss leaps from the stage, darting through the crowd, and crashing into Cinna. He holds her close, murmuring in that strange way that we all do when we wish to give comfort. The crowds are in shock over the events that have just happened. I know that the cameras are pointed at us, so I do the only thing I can. I reach up, and carefully unwind the cloth that shields my eyes from the sun. By my side, my friends are doing the same thing. The light stings now, but it's better than it was. I stare at the camera, silent but strong. My message is clear: "_We can see what is happening. We will speak while we can. We will act when we have to. Above all, we will survive."_


	4. Epilogue

The days are good here. I live in a small house in the shattered remains of District 12, in the Victor's Village. And we _are_ the victors. Cinna lives in the same house as Katniss and Peeta now. He takes care of them, since the war affected them so badly. We see each other every day. He has started making clothes again. Apparently his style is all the range in the Capital.

Brave Defender lives in District Nine, helping grow the grain to feed Panem. He needs a quiet life now, far away from anything sounding like a gunshot or a whip crack. He married a young woman. I've heard that she is creating a book on how to speak Avox

Mimic was found about a week after that faithful arrow leapt from Katniss's bow, wandering around confused. His family from District Four have welcomed him back with open arms. Anna, Finnick's widow, has been tending to him. I think that having him around helps keep her present.

The nameless Avox has gone out of contact (not that he ever was in contact). It turns out that he has returned to his original occupation—a poacher. Although now he does it legally.

Friendship and Goodness have a small house in District One. They opened up a small toy store, and now their toys are renowned all over Panem. They used the funds from their business to start a charity for those whose family died in the war—whether they were an Avox, a bystander, a Peacekeeper or a rebel. They show more mercy than I ever could.

Glint was one of the unlucky. He returned to District One, only to be shunned by his family for whatever crime he committed. He tried to rebuild his life, but he just couldn't do it. Within a month of crawling from the sewers, Glint found himself checking into a mental health hospital. I hope he'll be okay.

Sly One is living in the Capital now, as a Games Master. It was decided to never hold another Hunger Games. Instead, Sly One looked into the history of Panem. In our past, every four years, a great series of sporting events would take place. Each country would send their very best athletes to compete in challenges such as running, swimming and archery. They would compete for honour, and no one tried to kill each other. It was officially decreed yesterday—next year would be the first return of the 'Olympic Games'.

As for me—I'm coping. I feel like part of me never left those tunnels. My therapist tells me that I should try to embrace life on the surface. So I try to do something every day. I have a small heard of horses that I train for my own amusement. I write about the suffering I saw in that blackness. I bake bread with Peeta or make clothes with Cinna. And every night, I wake from my nightmares with a silent scream that stretches out endlessly.


End file.
